


The Thing I Understand

by Telesilla



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Community: lotrips_fqf, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-28
Updated: 2006-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven vignettes about Bean, the cast and crew, and touching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing I Understand

i

Sean just knows he's going to end up spending every penny he makes on this project and then some on his phone bill. Abigail thinks nothing of calling him whenever she feels like it, which always seems to be when he's away from the hotel and its phone. "I'm going to charge you for these damn calls," he growls into his mobile when she interrupts what was intended to be a peaceful, early morning smoke before the insanity of a day's shoot begins. "Can't you talk to the lawyer?"

The conversation goes downhill from there and Sean lights up, feeling a little defiant about it--she'd been after him to quit ever since the baby was born-- as he listens and makes non-committal replies, knowing that his real crime in her eyes is that he's not there and never really was. He feels guilty enough about it that he lets her go on until she finally ends the call. Folding his mobile up, he lights up another cigarette and smokes it with quick angry puffs.

"Hey," an American voice says, and Sean turns to see Sean Astin looking at him with a sad little smile. "Sorry," he adds. "I heard some of that and it sounds rough."

"Yeah," Sean replies with a slight shrug. He's surprised when Astin, with whom he's not all that close, reaches out and rests a hand on his shoulder for a moment. Bracing himself for some sort of Yank pyshcobabble, Sean's relived when all Astin does is grip lightly. _He's seen his share of fucked up relationships,_ Sean remembers and somehow he can feel that through Astin's light touch. "Thanks," he mumbles and Astin just nods before heading back toward the catering tent.

ii

I like working with Sean Bean for any number of reasons. He is, first and foremost, a down-to-earth professional; he may have his moods, but you can't imagine him acting like a diva. Even when he's hungover, he's always nice to me, waving away my apologies for tugging on his hair. He includes me in the conversation too, instead of ignoring me like so many actors do.

He's got a good face, nice bones, and the lines on it are more from smiling than they are from frowning. A good face...all right, he's one handsome devil and I think he knows it. But from a make-up artist's point of view, it's an easy face to work with and the beard and wig suit him; I'm pleased with the look.

This morning he was talking to her again--his soon to be ex-wife--and now he's quiet, ignoring Orlando, who is going on about his plans for the weekend. "You need some coffee before I start this?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"Ta, Jenny, I'm fine for now." He sounds more Sheffield than Gondor; unlike Viggo who already sounds like Aragorn when he settles into his chair, Sean doesn't become Boromir until Peter yells for action.

Reaching for the foundation, I start in, rubbing at his forehead and temples a little more than is really necessary. It's not much, but it's the least I can do. _Not all women are idiots,_ I want to say, but I'm a professional too.

iii

Sprawling back on the ground with Billy on top of him, Sean can't help grunting. "Bloody hell," he says, "how'd a shortarse like you end up weighing so much."

"Shortarse?!" Billy says, glaring down at Sean. "Did you hear that, Sblom? He called me a fuckin' shortarse!"

"Well technically," Dom replies, looking down at them, "he's right. However, seeing as he's also a northern bastard with no manners, I suppose I could be called upon--reluctantly mind you--to help teach him a lesson."

"We're supposed to be blocking this scene," Sean says, attempting to sound dignified. It isn't easy with a Hobbit on top of him and he looks at Fran a little helplessly, but she has her back turned and seems to be talking to a production assistant.

Taking advantage of the situation, Dom pounces on Sean as well and Sean winces and huffs. "Fuck off...c'mon you two, get off me!"

"We can't hurt you," Billy says, sitting on Sean's chest. "We're just a couple of shortarses."

"No harm to be had from _us_," Dom chimes in, pushing Billy a little until he can perch on Sean's arm. "Right?"

"Right," Billy says. "I wonder if the great Sean Bean is ticklish?"

"I like how you ask the important questions, Bills. There's only one way to find out."

Sean squirms, wishing Boromir's chainmail covered him all over and not only at the visible points. "Don't you two _dare_...."

The two exchange a look and Sean knows he shouldn't have said anything. A second later and he's swearing and twisting on the ground while Billy's fingers dig into his armpits and Dom targets his ribs.

"Stop," Sean gasps, his sides hurting. "Please...I'm sorry I called you shortarses...please stop!"

"Do you hear something?"

"Dunno Bills, could be anything...."

"Fuck...c'mon please," Sean's breathless and he knows he's giggling insanely, which makes him hope like hell that they don't have too much of an audience. "I'll pay for the beer tonight!"

Like that, the tickling stops. "Can I get that in writing?" Dom asks.

"If you both bloody well get OFF me in the next five seconds," Sean promises.

"Drinks are on Bean tonight," Billy yells as he finally moves off Sean.

Looking up Sean sees what must be the whole cast and a good part of the crew looking at him. "Fuck it," he mutters before continuing in a louder voice. "I'm buying tonight, yeah."

iv

Philippa catches up with Sean at lunch time with some changes in the script. He hides a smirk as John walks by, muttering about how he was glad he hadn't bothered to read the ones shoved under his door the night before.

"Does this work for you?" Philippa asks, ignoring John and leaning over Sean's shoulder to read along with him. He turns almost automatically so that she can see the page better and she moves in closer. "You won't actually be shooting this scene until tomorrow, but I wanted to see what you thought."

"This is from _Return,_ isn't it?" Sean says, although he really doesn't really need to ask. "Toward the beginning of Chapter One."

"Yes," she says.

"_Have_ you ever seen it, Aragorn," Sean begins and then shakes his head. Moving away from Phillipa, he begins to pace. "Have _you_ ever seen...have you ever _seen_ it Aragorn...have you ever seen it, _Aragorn_...no, too much accusation there...." He spends another few moments mumbling the lines to himself, playing with the inflection and the rhythm of them before he turns back.

"Have you ever seen it, Aragorn?" he says, using Boromir's voice but allowing a little of his own feelings of uncertainty to influence him just a bit. "The White Tower of Ecthelion glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze." He doesn't make that the question, wanting to save that for the next line. But no, he thinks, this passage isn't really a question for Aragorn as much as it is a memory and a shield for Boromir. One that Boromir is willing to share with Aragorn if only to make the Ranger see Boromir's vision of what Gondor could be.

"Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

"I have seen the White City, long ago," Philippa says, her voice low and hesitant, and that's close enough to Aragorn for Sean, who isn't even looking at her.

"One day, our paths will lead us there," he continues, appreciating the way this brings it back to the feeling of the earlier lines. He lets his voice get stronger and more confident, although he's not sure if Boromir is seeing himself returning with the rightful King or with the Ring in his possession, or maybe both. "And the Tower Guard shall take up the call: 'the Lords of Gondor have returned.'"

He pauses then and glances down at the script. There's nothing for Aragorn to say; the scene is supposed to segue into Galadriel and Frodo. But it doesn't matter right now, what matters is the gift Philippa has given him.

When he finally looks at her, Philippa is staring at him with an expression Sean's seen more than once on this project. On any other project, it would be the look of a writer who is finally hearing someone speak her words the way she meant them to be spoken, but here, with Peter and Fran as well as Philippa, it's different somehow. _Maybe a conductor who is hearing Beethoven played the way she thinks it should be played._

"Thank you," he says with a quiet smile. "I think it's important that Boromir says this, that we see into his head a little. I've never seen him as a villain. Fucked up, yeah, but not evil."

"Like most of us," she says. "But yes, that's why I wanted to give him, and you, those lines." She gives him an uncharacteristically shy smile and then hugs him hard. "I'm glad Peter cast you."

Before he can say anything else, she's moving away, already calling out John's name.

v

"Got a fag?" Orlando says, as he settles himself down in Sean's lap during a break in the afternoon's shooting. "And a light?" He leans back and flutters his eyelashes at Sean, even though he knows it's a wasted effort. _Still fun, though._

"Anything else, Your Highness?" Sean asks sarcastically, letting his accent go broad. Orlando snickers a little; Sean almost always comes over all Yorkshire when he's teasing Orlando.

"Oh indeed yes," Orlando replies, using his poshest voice. "I'll have a dozen oysters and a bottle of Cristal, my good man. And fresh...."

"...hookers for your men," Sean finishes. "I'd actually give you a fag, but you're sitting on me lap and I don't want to grope your bony arse while I reach into my pockets."

"Bony?" Orlando wriggled and turned to look at Sean. He feels a moment of triumph when he catches a quick glimpse of a smile on Sean's face before it's replaced with a scowl. "Bony?!"

"Bony," Sean says firmly. "I'm going to have the bruises to show for it."

"Obviously you don't know a quality arse when you see one," Orlando says with a sniff.

"No I don't," Sean replies. "So why waste yours on me?"

There's a hint of a warning under the joke, and Orlando does heed it, even if he gives no indication. He can push Sean only so far before he hits Sean's limit. And that's fine really, Orlando thinks, as he gets off Sean's lap. The real fun lies in getting as close to that limit as he can without pissing Sean off.

"So," Orlando says, settling onto the bench next to Sean. "About that fag...."

vi

Sean loves the first swallow of beer after a long days work, loves the way the slight bitterness and rich taste of it seems to satisfy something more than mere thirst. He takes another long drink and then glances around the pub. There are more people here than usual for a week night, and he can't help wondering how much this is going to set him back. Not that it matters, it's only money and, he realizes with a slight smirk, it's money he won't have to hand over to Abby.

That doesn't keep him from glowering as Elijah comes up to the booth with some horrible looking purple drink that has an umbrella and fruit.

"Good God," Ian says before Sean can say anything. "My dear boy, even _I_ wouldn't be caught dead drinking that."

"FGD!" Elijah says. "Shove over, Beanie."

"FG what?" Sean asks. "And there's not enough...bloody hell, Elijah!" He turns to Ian, finding himself almost nose to nose with him. "Sorry about that."

"Oh I don't mind at all," Ian says as Elijah settles down next to Sean. "I'm the envy of every woman in England and at least a quarter of the men."

Ian is so archly campy that it's impossible to take offense at anything he says, not to mention that Sean knows that he was just paid a compliment. He leans back, putting his arms up on the back of the booth, and Elijah gets more comfortable, all but tucking himself against Sean's side.

"So what's an FG?"

"FGD. Stands for Fruity Girly Drink." Elijah takes a long gulp and Sean wonders who tonight's designated driver is. "I can't remember what's in this one besides the rum and blue Curacao and that pink stuff...grenedine."

"Christ, that alone is a bad hangover waiting to happen," Sean says and across the table, Astin laughs.

"He promised to only have one, but I don't believe him."

"Of course I'll only have one," Elijah says after another long drink that leaves his lips purple. "It's Beanie's tab. Now if it were yours, I'd get shitfaced."

"Figures," Astin says, trying to glower. It's not a very good attempt for someone who's such a good actor, and everyone around them laughs.

That's good too: the laughter of a bunch of mates. It's even better than the beer--not that Sean would dream of saying such a thing aloud--and he doesn't mind the fact that he's crammed thigh-to-thigh-to-thigh between the oldest and youngest members of the Fellowship in a booth designed for two to a side.

At one end of the table, Dom launches into an improbable story involving his brother, a sparrow and a box of chocolates, and Sean does his best to follow along. Every once in a while he ends up jostling either Ian or Elijah as he reaches for his beer, but they don't seem at all put out by it. In fact, Sean realizes, Elijah doesn't seem to be aware of much of anything aside from Dom's story and Sean wonders if it's the story or Dom himself that's taking up all of Elijah's attention.

When he glances from Dom to Elijah and then back, he finds himself meeting Ian's amused gaze. "Oh to be young again and working on this film," Ian says very quietly. "I hope our Hobbits sort themselves out amicably."

"These younger ones are all good kids," Sean replies, his voice equally quiet. "Professionals, for the most part." He glances at the bar, where Orlando seems to be flirting with both his make-up artist and one of the stunties.

"He's learning," Ian murmurs. "Reminds me of a very brash young actor I once was...ahem, I once _knew_ back in the old days."

Sean laughs a little and reaches for his beer, frowning a little when he notices that it's empty. Just as he's about to try and untangle himself from his surprisingly comfortable spot, a nicked and scraped up hand holds a beer in front of him.

"You're buying," Viggo says, his voice almost lost under the chorus of voices as people greet him. "Seems the least I can do is get you a refill."

As Sean takes the beer, their fingers brush as if by accident. The look Sean sees in Viggo's eyes makes him nod ever so slightly, and as Viggo grabs a chair and shoves in between Dom and Astin, Sean feels a little curl of anticipation start in his belly.

vii

"Smoke?" Viggo asks, flopping back on the bed after dealing with the condom.

Sean pulls a cigarette out of his pack and lights it. After taking a drag, he hands it to Viggo in exchange for a tee-shirt, which he uses to clean himself up a little. "Christ," he says, lighting another cigarette for himself even though he's still a little breathless. "That was bloody good." If anything, he's understating the matter; he's still aching in the best way from being pounded into the mattress and his lips still feel warm and a little swollen. "Needed that," he adds, glancing quickly over at Viggo.

"Abby call this morning?" Viggo asks after a moment, going up on his elbow and reaching out with his other hand to brush a bit of Sean's fringe off his forehead.

"Yeah," Sean says, with a sigh. He supposes any bloke who knows the rules of "friends-with-benefits" would pull away now and make some kind of joke, but he can't. _And fuck it; Viggo doesn't give a damn about the rules._

Viggo reaches behind himself and stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray before scooting a little closer. "It sucks, man," he says, and there's enough experience and shared pain in those three words that Sean wonders if Vig's talking about Sean and Abby, or himself and Exene. It doesn't really matter though, and he leans over Viggo to crush out his own cigarette.

The move leaves him pressed up against Viggo and that's good, no, it's better than good. They're of a height and while Sean might have a little more bulk, Viggo's certainly strong enough to bear his weight. His arms go around Sean and they both move about until Viggo's on his back, Sean's head on his shoulder. "Relax," Viggo murmurs, "I've got you." His fingers trace lazy patterns on Sean's back and Sean finds it easy to let go and relax.

After a while, Sean finally speaks. "The shag was fucking brilliant, but this," and he nuzzles Viggo's chest a little, surprised at how comfortable it is to do so. "This is even better."

"Mmm," Viggo hums, bending his head a little so he can kiss Sean's hair. "Yeah," he says. "For me too."

Tomorrow there will probably be anther phone call, or maybe a long email or fax from a lawyer, but then again, once that's over, things will be good; Sean will be among friends. And Viggo.

He moves closer to Viggo, who kisses his hair again and murmurs, "stay the night."

And Sean thinks that he might just do that.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following request from [](http://prettypattisue.livejournal.com/profile)[**prettypattisue**](http://prettypattisue.livejournal.com/) on [](http://community.livejournal.com/lotrips_fqf/profile)[**lotrips_fqf**](http://community.livejournal.com/lotrips_fqf/):  
>   
>  Sean B./7 other people. Set right after Sean's divorce. I heard once that you have to be touched in a positive way seven times a day in order to maintain a healthy psychological state. I'd like seven drabble-type components to the fic with seven different people touching Sean in seven different ways. Doesn't have to be about sex -- could be a hug, a kiss, a pat on the back, whatever.  
> This one was a lot of fun to write. Being me, I couldn't help but make the last touch sexual, but it was fun to examine Bean's relationships with other members of the cast and crew. Section iv is pure speculation on my part; I have no idea which lines were in the original script or anything like that. The title is a line from Peter Gabriel's song "I Have the Touch."


End file.
